


Black Sheep, Come Home

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Alternating, Reunions, Slow Burn, something about no betas and glenn dying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sylvain has never wanted a fucking drink so desperately in his life, anything to stop the swelling in his chest, to stop the eruption of buried emotions spurting out of every chamber.Sylvain didn’t hear her, all of his attention tunneled onto the lead guitarist, who still hadn’t acknowledged the crowd as he strummed through the beginning of the song, his movements slicing through the air like a sword with every chord. When he finally looked towards the crowd, his noncommittal gaze glazed over everyone, a concentrated expression dotted with furrowed brows...until his eyes finally crashed into Sylvain’s, cinnamon melting into honey.”Felix…”Or: the one where two emotionally constipated dodos try again.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

Sylvain groaned as Ingrid tugged him by the wrist through the heavy door of the bar with an iron grip. The honey of his eyes quickly faded while his pupils adjusted to the dim lighting of the venue. It was a fairly modest place, the bar stretched along a lengthy wall with several booths adorned with tea lights in jars sitting across from it. Despite its modesty, the place was packed, bodies lined up against the bar, shoulder to shoulder while the booths overflowed with people talking and laughing and yelling.

Normally, the bustle of the bar wouldn’t have bothered Sylvain. In fact, he thrived in these environments, practically lived in them. The loud racket of a bar coupled with alcohol made it easier to shove his woes in the back of his mind, bury them and save them for later. Or forget about them completely, it didn’t matter. Plus, it made it easier to lay on the charm. Not that Sylvain ever needed booze to boost his confidence, but it helped, sometimes. At least that’s what he told himself to justify drinking himself silly, kicking the largest of his woes to the darkest corner of his mind, sealing it shut with sticky spite he’d deal with eventually.

He could already feel the gravitational pull of the bar tugging at his knees, but Ingrid kept him in check, leading him towards the growing crowd blossoming in front of a moderately sized stage.

”Can you at least greet Dimitri before making a beeline for the alcohol? We’re here for him you know.” Ingrid looked up at Sylvain, green eyes glittering with concern, pleading with him for a little bit of restraint.

”Aw, what’s one little drink before meeting up with dear Dimitri?” He sighed, ruffling a hand through his red hair as he realized those green eyes would never waver. “I had a rough talk with my old man this morning and I just...need a drink. That’s all. I’m not exactly stoked to be here right now.” There was no use in keeping this from her for long, she’d squeeze it out of him with a hard twist of an arm anyway, might as well get it out of the way now.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “As if you’re the only one here with lingering daddy issues.” Sylvain steeled himself as to not visibly reel at her words. Leave it to Ingrid to intensify the air at a bar only after a few minutes. But her expression softened and she reached up to tenderly cup his cheek. Sylvain shivered, her fingers always so uncomfortably frigid, dry ice almost shattering the warmth of his cheek.

”We can talk about it later, if you want,” she continued, “but Dimitri has never asked us for anything before. And if this will give him a chance at happiness, give one of us a chance at happiness, can you at least try?”

”Ingrid,” he took her cold hand off his cheek and gingerly rubbed his fingers against her palm, feeling the lines at the center slowly defrost. “Do you always have to make everything so dramatic?” He smiled, knowing that it didn’t quite reach the honey of his eyes. Still, he was rewarded with a small tug curling upwards from the side of Ingrid’s mouth. “Fine. Let’s go find our dear prince.”

It didn’t take long to find Dimitri. Despite the growing crowd, there wasn’t much that could conceal his broad shoulders and six foot two stature topped with a bright blonde head of hair.

”Ingrid, Sylvain! Thanks for coming.” Dimitri beamed at both of them, the steel of his icy blues frosted with glee and anticipation, “I truly appreciate it.”

”Of course,” Ingrid mirrored Dimitri’s warm smile. “We’re here to see Ashe perform with his band, right?”

”Yes. I did ask if it was alright to invite the both of you. I suppose I’m too much of a coward to have shown up on my own. So again, thanks for your support.”

”Well, you said it,” Sylvain finally chimed, “and you owe me a couple drinks for this. My handsome face making an appearance in a place like this comes at a price you know.”

Sylvain yelped as Ingrid jammed her elbow into his ribs.

”Sylvain!”

”It was a joke! Dimitri knows that,” he slung his arm around the blonde’s broad shoulders, playfully tugging him close.

”Yes, I know. I’ll still buy you a drink, though, if you’d like. It’s the least I can do,” Dimitri chuckled as he smiled at Sylvain, who did what he always did best, return it with a smile of his own, so full of artificial sugar it made his cheeks hurt and teeth rot. He hated it.

”Ugh, just ignore him, Dimitri. Anyway, you must really like Ashe a lot to come see him perform here,” Ingrid laughed. “I’ve never seen you so smitten before or so eager to come to a bar.”

”Ashe is...special,” Dimitri flushed, pink blooming from the center of his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears, “I...I like him a lot, I think.”

”Good for you,” Sylvain piped a little too quickly, although Ingrid nor Dimitri didn’t seem to notice. _Of course_ Dimitri was smitten with Ashe, what’s not to like about Ashe? Sylvain can remember when Dimitri brought Ashe home to their apartment clear as day.

He remembered slouching on the couch, browsing through social media while his grad school homework sat abandoned in a neat pile on the coffee table. He remembered Dimitri’s polite cough, grabbing his attention as his gaze shifted from his tall roommate to the shorter, delicate, silver-haired man standing awkwardly beside him. He remembered those chartreuse eyes as big as limes accompanied by a shy wave, looking at him with hopeful wonder sprinkled with a dash of fear. He remembered his voice, sweet in an honest way Sylvain always tried to emulate but could never quite master. _Hi, I’m Ashe._ He remembered shaking his hand, small and pale and freckled and soft. He remembered listening to Ashe explain how they met, how he accidentally spilled coffee on Dimtri’s lap during class. He remembered sharing a pizza and laughing over terrible romcoms, Ashe’s gentle giggle as soft as silk. He remembered wanting so desperately to hate Ashe, but couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but gratitude towards him. He remembered deciding Ashe was _good_ as he watched every single one of his soft nuances elicit a bright smile from Dimitri, a feat Sylvain didn’t know his childhood friend was still capable of for almost a decade. He remembered an unnamed emotion twisting something dark and vile in the pit of his stomach as he smiled at both of them.

”Yeah, real happy for you,” Sylvain half-shouted, “I’m gonna get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

He ignored Ingrid’s protests as he pushed through the crowd towards the bar, miraculously grabbing a barstool just as someone stood up to leave. The bartender was a little too enthusiastic for Sylvain’s taste—a rather large, burly man with shaggy blonde hair smiled down on him with piercing yellow eyes.

”Hi! What’ll it be?”

”I’ll have whatever the lovely lady to my left is having,” Sylvain gestured towards a woman with long, brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders in carob waves. She turned to face him, eyes like malachite slanting with something he couldn’t read. Interest? Relief? Malice?

_Does everyone in this city have green eyes?_

”Hmm, I’ll let you buy me a drink if you introduce me to your blonde friend over there,” she lazily pointed a manicured hand towards the large crowd gathering in front of the stage.

”Well, unfortunately he’s unavailable. But luckily for you, there is a charming redhead willing to—”

”Oh, no,” she hastily interrupted. Sylvain felt all of his syrupy lines slip out of his ears, thick and useless. “I wasn’t talking about _him_ ,” she pointed towards the crowd again, this time putting a little more effort as her lithe finger transfixed onto Ingrid, who was pointedly staring at Sylvain with a raised eyebrow. “I was talking about _her_."

Sylvain’s laugh was trailed by the ghost of something darker, “I don’t know if you can handle her. Actually, I don’t know if you _want_ to handle her.”

She smiled at him, something sweet and a little impish pushing her cheeks up. “Try me.”

”Two vodka cranberries!”

The boom of the bartender’s voice rattled Sylvain’s skull. He grimaced as he took his drink and handed the other to the woman beside him.

”Vodka cranberry, huh?”

”Yes, is that alright with you?” The question punctuated with a small melodic challenge.

”Not my first choice, but it’ll do,” he knocked back his drink in a matter of seconds, ignoring the judgemental giggles to his left. He released a long sigh. “Her name is Ingrid. She really likes horses, fantasy novels, and arguing. She can be...abrasive, but she has a big heart.”

”Well, that’s definitely helpful. Thank you...” she looked at him expectedly.

”Sylvain.”

”Dorothea.” she extended her hand and he took it, feeling a sense of comradery as their palms met. “You know, Sylvain, you’re quite the looker, you may not _completely_ strike out tonight.”

”Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hand at her, making sure to shoot her a warm smile. A real one this time.

”Hey, Thea!” A rather short woman materialized out of nowhere, bubblegum pink hair tied in a ponytail with eyes to match. She had her arm looped around a man’s, whose green eyes seemed to sparkle even brighter thanks to his smooth brown skin, face framed by dark brown curls.

_These green eyes are gonna kill me._

”We should make our way towards the stage, they’re playing soon and it’s already so packed,” the man’s voice rang velveteen. He stared at Sylvain and smiled. “Bring your new pal, if you must.”

”Oh, this is Sylvain, he’s going to introduce me to his gorgeous friend,” Dorothea tugged Sylvain off the barstool and led him towards his friends.

The four of them made it to Dimitri and Ingrid, the latter trying to ease the nerves of the former as he blankly stared at the stage. Sylvain introduced Ingrid to Dorothea, who introduced her own friends as Hilda and Claude. Sylvain barely listened to their idle chatter, focusing instead on the murmur of the crowd as the lights shifted on stage. He made sure to grace them with the occasional laugh and mhmm as they chatted, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Every syllable of every word of every topic of conversation just riled the nasty feeling bubbling at the pit of Sylvain’s stomach. He wished he had another drink to shove the feeling in the back of his mind.

A petite woman with soft white hair shushed them as the crowd finally settled. Dorothea and Hilda giggled at her as she rolled her rosy eyes.

Ashe was the first to walk on stage, hair glittering like starlight with a bass guitar slung over his shoulder. His eyes found Dimitri immediately, peridot glimmering with excitement. Sylvain bit the inside of his cheek.

The next person to make an appearance was their drummer, a tall woman with short sandy hair and eyes full of indigo. Her face was sweet and easy on the eyes, her smile curling with grace and charm. She fixed her skirt before taking a seat at the drums. Sylvain made a mental note to ask Ashe to introduce them. She was followed by another presumable sweetheart, hair not quite as red as Sylvain’s falling at her shoulders. Her teal eyes swam with nerves as she took her place in front of the microphone, turning to Ashe for reassurance before waving at the white-haired girl in front of Sylvain.

Sylvain turned to whisper to Ingrid, “Ashe’s band really is full of hotties hu—” Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a force not unlike a semi truck slamming into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He could feel Ingrid stiffen next to him, and he could just barely see Dimitri flinch out of his peripheral.

The last person to make it on the stage was their lead guitarist. His long, raven hair was tied in a high ponytail, grazing the surface of his back with every delicate sway. His pale skin was scattered with small shadows casted by the sharp edges of his lean muscles, the stage lights paling him even further, toned edges illuminated by manufactured moonlight. There was a preciseness to his movements as he finished setting up, the sharpness of his being contrasting with the softness of his bandmates.

Sylvain has never wanted a fucking drink so desperately in his life, anything to stop the swelling in his chest, to stop the eruption of buried emotions spurting out of every chamber.

”Sylvain…” Ingrid whispered. He wanted to acknowledge her, wanted to tear his eyes from the most wonderful person he had ever known. But he couldn’t. He could feel Dimitri’s icy gaze pierce through his side like a lance. He couldn’t look at him either.

”Hi!” The singer exclaimed into the mic. “Uh, we’re Cutting Gale and yeah! Thanks for coming!” Dorothea huffed out a laugh, earning a rosy glare.

”Sylvain,” Ingrid uttered, with more certainty and urgency this time as the band began to play their first song, “that’s…”

Sylvain didn’t hear her, all of his attention tunneled onto the lead guitarist, who still hadn’t acknowledged the crowd as he strummed through the beginning of the song, his movements slicing through the air like a sword with every chord. When he finally looked towards the crowd, his noncommittal gaze glazed over everyone, a concentrated expression dotted with furrowed brows...until his eyes finally crashed into Sylvain’s, cinnamon melting into honey.

”Felix…”

_Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when_

_Our common goal was waiting for the world to end_

_Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend_

_You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again_

Sylvain felt Ingrid grab hold of his hand, grateful for the coldness of her fingers which kept the rising heat of his body at bay—barely. He didn’t dare remove his eyes from Felix, who stared right back with equal intensity. His expression would have been unreadable, but Sylvain could see the cherrywood of his eyes splinter. All he could think to do was stare and finally smile at Felix, who returned it with a scoff. Sylvain thought he could feel his legs slip through the floor of the bar, thought he could feel every bone and organ in his body squeeze through the pores of his skin, thought he could feel his heart about to explode and bleed through his ears.

_Send you my love on a wire_

_Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh_

_From you_

”Annette’s gotten much better, she sounds so good,” Sylvain was surprised he was even able to hear Dorothea talking to Hilda.

”She’s always been good,” snapped the white-haired woman, “you just weren’t paying attention.”

”Oh, I know, Lysithea,” Dorothea laughed, “I’m just saying she’s improved.” She turned her attention to Sylvain, who still couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone but Felix. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, “See, didn’t I say you wouldn’t completely strike out?”

”Yeah,” was all Sylvain could manage as he absorbed every single one of Felix’s movements, so sharp, so precise, so pointed, so bewitching. The only reason Sylain’s knees didn’t buckle was because he couldn’t bear the thought of missing a single moment of the person he thought he would never see again, the person he once held most dear.

_Got balls of steel, got an automobile, for a minimum wage_

_Got real estate, I'm buying it all up in outer space_

_Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend_

_You crack the whip, shape-shift and trick, the past again_

Felix only broke his gaze with Sylvain once, and it was to get a good look at Dimitri and Ingrid, as if trying to think of a reason he could be hallucinating, before returning his expression back to Sylvain. His playing never wavered, each strum of his guitar perfect and purposeful. Sylvain felt his face flush as red as his hair, which he thought he’d regret until Felix’s eyes widened and his pale cheeks were suddenly dusted pink. Sylvain squeezed Ingrid’s hand, looking for affirmation that he was indeed in the real world and not trapped in some kind of fever dream.

_Send you my love on a wire_

_Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh_

_It's a mechanical bull, the number one_

_You'll take a ride from anyone_

_Everyone wants a ride, pulls away, ooh, from you_

Ingrid let go of Sylvain’s hand to clap, joining the crowd as their cheers welded into the beginning of their next song. Sylvain stood as still as a statue throughout the entire set, barely blinking as he watched Felix perform on stage. It was like watching the sun set over the horizon, or a wave crash onto a beach, or the wind rustle yellow leaves out of a large tree in the middle of autumn. Watching Felix perform was like watching a natural loveliness of the world, an unquestioned certainty, just _be,_ and Sylvain would sooner disembowel himself than ever allow Felix to stray too far again.

The band finished their set and slowly made their way off the stage. Felix was the last to exit, stealing one more long glance at Sylvain before he left.

”Dimitri,” Sylvain exclaimed, exasperated, “please tell me Ashe mentioned introducing you to his bandmates.”

”I just texted him, he said they’re putting all their equipment away and then they’ll meet us at the bar,” Dimitri glanced at Sylvain and Ingrid. “For the record, I had no idea, otherwise…”

”Yeah,” Ingrid and Sylvain huffed at the same time.

The trio beelined for the bar, with Dorothea and Lysithea not far behind. Sylvain couldn’t stop fidgeting, unable to fixate his gaze on anything specific, looking for a head full of silver to grace him with the most precious person he’d ever known. As Dorothea and Ingrid continued to flirt, and Dimitri and Lysithea made awkward small talk about how they knew the members of the band, Sylvain began to worry, his heart suddenly sinking to the balls of his feet until he saw Ashe practically skipping towards them with his bandmates in tow.

When the groups collided, Sylvain only had eyes for Felix, who wore a perpetual frown as he shifted his gaze towards Sylvain, looking him up and down as if he were sizing him up for a fight. Sylvain didn’t mind, he relished the invisible welts Felix’s amber eyes left on his skin.

”Hey Dimitri!” Ashe finally gushed. “What did you think?”

”It..It was great!” DImitri stammered, unsure of what to do with the unspoken tension between them all. Ashe didn’t seem to notice. Lysithea pushed passed him to plant a small kiss on the singer’s cheek.

”I’m glad you think so,” he gestured towards their drummer, “This is Mercedes and our lead singer is Annette. I see you’ve met her girlfriend, Lysithea, and Dorothea, the lead singer of another band that plays here. And finally, this is—”

”Felix!” Ingrid shouted as she practically leaped into Felix’s arms, wrapping her own around his neck. Sylvain watched Felix fight off a scowl as he barely wrapped his arms around her waist, his expression softening the longer she held on to him. The vile feeling in the pit of Sylvain’s stomach returned, but only for a moment before it finally vanished.

Annette and Dorothea exchanged glances, a long silence holding everyone still as Ingrid and Felix awkwardly let go of each other. Sylvain felt his hand twitch, every synapse firing in his brain, fighting the urge to reach and grab Felix just to make sure he wasn’t some kind of phantom or twisted karmic illusion the universe decided dish out—to make sure he was real.

Ashe broke the silence first, “I take it you all know each other?”

_Oh Ashe, you beautiful fool._

”Yes,” answered Dimitri, the politeness of his voice always so diplomatic. “Quite well in fact,” he continued, nerves starting to linger on the tail ends of his words. “We grew up together.”

”Felix, is this true?” Mercedes finally spoke, the pitch of her voice balanced by her genuine kindness, the indigo of her eyes swirling with nothing but sweet tenderness and understanding.

Felix closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, his dark brows finally relaxing as his frown reshaped itself into something more neutral.

”Yes,” he huffed out.“ It’s true.”

Three words. All it took was three words to make Sylvain’s knees finally buckle. _Yes, it’s true._ Those words draped over every nerve in his body, the velour of the slight bass of Felix’s voice caressing the drums of his ears, sending a shock down his body that settled on his knees, making Sylvain falter.

”One vodka cranberry and now look at you,” Dorothea caught him before he fell completely, although, Sylvain was certain he wouldn’t have felt a thing if he fell and broke every bone in his body.

”I guess I’m a lightweight,” he tried playing it off, as usual, garnishing the end of his sentence with a sprinkle of his signature saccharine smile soured at the edges. He turned to face Felix again, amber eyes flashing with...disgust? Concern? Amusement? Sylvain had no idea.

_What the fuck is that?_

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Sylvain before returning her attention to Felix, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sylvain watched the intensity of those eyes waver, his lips threatening to curl downwards.

”Felix, it’s so good to see you, it’s been so long,” Ingrid began, squeezing his shoulder as she barreled on. “You’ve grown so handsome. You look so much like Glenn now.”

Sylvain winced as he slid his gaze over to Felix’s arms, his lean muscles slowly seizing and he began to curl his hands into fists. Sylvain quickly looked over at Dimitri to try and catch those icy blues, but it was too late.

”I agree,” misguided relief skirting over the syllables as Dimitri continued “I’m sure your brother would have been proud to see you play, he did teach you after all.”

Sylvain began to chew the inside of his cheek and watched Felix’s lips faltered into a scowl, his brows furrowing deep in the middle, his face twisting into something bitter and resentful and _angry._

”You have a brother!?” Sylvain silently begged for some of the cheerfulness of Annette’s voice to fade away. “Really!?”

”Quite cruel of you to withhold such information for such a long time,” Lysithea quipped. Sylvain began to sweat.

”How come you never mentioned him, Felix?” Ashe’s question hung heavy in the air, so full of concerned curiosity and so utterly misplaced.

Sylvain felt his chest ache, watching Felix’s eyes scrunch closed, nose wrinkled as his brows pulled his pale skin tight. He was biting his lip, and Sylvain could see the venom about to spit out from the crevices of his teeth. Felix would most likely not regret his words, but Sylvain still didn’t want to hear them.

His brain lost the battle as he grabbed Felix’s wrist and tugged him toward the other end of the bar.

”Sorry guys,” Sylvain laughed, “but I think I’m gonna be a little selfish and buy him a drink over here. We’ll be right back.” He’ll leave it to Ingrid and Dimitri to explain the whole Glenn thing, they brought it up anyway.

Sylvain wasn’t sure how long it took to reach the other end of the bar, his brain simply short-circuited; he decided it didn’t matter. All he could focus on was his grip on Felix’s wrist. His skin was cold, but it didn’t walk the line between freezing and outright frostbite like Ingrid’s did. No, his skin was the coolness of the ocean on a hot summer day, offering chilly relief to even the most sunkissed skin.

It seemed as if the goddess was on their side that evening since the last two barstools at the end of the line emptied as they approached, Felix snatching his wrist back while they settled into their seats. His dark brows unfurrowed as soon as he realized he may have snatched his wrist back too aggressively. If Sylvain squinted hard enough, he could just make out the ghost of an apologetic expression.

”Hey! Do you want another vodka cranberry or can I get you something else?”

Sylvain was never going to get used to the boom of the bartender’s as he flinched once more. He did, however, perk up to the sound of a snort erupting from where Felix was sitting. 

”No thanks, I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

”Sure thing!” Those yellow eyes turned to Felix. “The usual?”

”Yes, thank you Raphael,” Felix sighed as he extended his arms upward towards the dim ceiling, tilting from side to side, the litheness of his body branding into Sylvain’s mind.

_Goddess bless whomever invented sleeveless turtlenecks._

Raphael returned with their drinks, Sylvain sighed in relief when he quickly stomped away, his attention needed elsewhere.

Both men sat there quietly for a moment, Felix swirling his finger through the condensation of his glass while Sylvain idly drummed his fingertips on the counter. Funnily enough, they both took a sip of their drinks at the same time, whiskey soda, which was much more Sylvain’s speed. 

Sylvain decided he couldn’t go another minute without hearing the dark velvet of Felix’s voice again, so naturally, he broke the silence with the most eloquent phrase he could muster.

”So.”

”So.”

Felix’s echo immediately sent shockwaves through Sylvain’s body, storm clouds hovering over his knees.

”I guess I should start by saying that you look—”

”If you mention my uncanniness to my dead brother, I swear to fucking Sothis I will smash this glass of whiskey into your temple and you’ll never see me again,” Felix growled, clenching the drink in his hand, a thousand swords breaking through the auburn barrier of his eyes.

”Hey, come on. I may have a messier track record than Ingrid and Dimitri, but I think I deserve a little more credit than that.” Sylvain made sure to warm the honey in his eyes, the stickiness keeping Felix’s in place. “You know me better than that. I know _you_ better than that.”

Felix frowned in response, but for once, his eyebrows didn’t furrow in tandem with the downturn of his lips.

”There’s a reason I dragged you away from our dearest, most clueless friends, Fe...lix,” Sylvain winced at the old nickname, a dusty reflex he didn’t know he still had.

”You’re right, I’m sorry,” a light touch of somberness melted into the smoothness of Felix’s voice, who chugged half his drink as if to chase away the apology that escaped his lips.

”Funny, I’ve thought about what our reunion would be like if it ever happened a million times and not once did I envision you apologizing,” Felix’s scowl returned immediately and Sylvain found himself backtracking. “Kidding, kidding! Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, you look,” he allowed his eyes to scan Felix, starting at the high ponytail and following it until he decided to shift toward the strand of midnight caressing the side of his defined jaw. He traced the lines of Felix’s face, landing on his eyelashes, so dark and long and unfair, which were fanning over those eyes made of copper. He kept going until he reached his shoulders, not quite broad, but strong and lean in a way that was somehow terrifying and thrilling all at once. Sylvain stopped once he realized Felix’s cheeks were kissed peach, his expression nothing short of surprised and breathless.

_Pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. Perfect._

”Good,” he finally finished.

It seemed as if Felix would relent, until another moment passed and his furrowed brows returned, followed by another scowl.

”Don’t treat me like one of your meaningless conquests.”

”I’m _not,_ ” this time it was Sylvain’s turn to frown, frustrated with the steel walls Felix refused to let collapse. “I haven’t seen you in what six, seven years? Excuse me for trying to offer some sort of compliment to my very best friend who, for a good fucking third of my life, I thought I was never going to see again.” He followed his frustration with the remainder of his drink.

”Whatever,” was all Sylvain got in response.

Raphael quietly slid the both of them another drink and quickly walked away, Sylvain mildly grateful that he had some context clues skills.

”Ugh, _Felix_ ,” Sylvain huffed as he prayed to the goddess for the tiniest shred of patience, “look at me.” He was shocked to find that his childhood best friend listened, almond-shaped eyes brimming with cinnamon, waiting to hang on to his next set of words. “You know I would never treat you like some conquest or some random girl or person or whatever. I just...I’m overwhelmed, seeing you so suddenly, it doesn’t seem real. I thought you left for good and I fucking _missed_ you,” he scooted closer to Felix, who didn’t seem to mind, eyes as wide as saucers, “I missed you, Fe.” Sylvain’s voice trailed off into a whisper.

Felix stared at him for what felt like decades. His eyes finally slanted as he scooted closer as well, their forearms touching, an ocean cooling sunkissed skin. Sylvain hoped they would sit for a little while longer since he was fairly certain his legs turned into jelly.

”I’m sorry,” Felix half-whispered, something flashing over the copper of his eyes as his voice trailed off.

_Regret?_

”Wow, two apologies in one night, I must be dreaming,” Sylvain laughed, every trace of artificiality gone.

”Shut up, idiot,” Felix snapped, but any lingering bit of anger was replaced by a quiet fondness Sylvain had been desperately aching for.

”Aren’t you gonna tell me I also look good? Come on, you can’t deny, I’ve grown into quite the hottie.”

Felix smirked as he looked up at Sylvain, tracing his figure with copper, slowly looping through each red curl before moving on to the dimples pressed below his high cheeks, finally settling onto his broad shoulders. Sylvain was used to being checked out, but not by someone who mattered as much as Felix. He felt the tips of his ears catch fire.

”A million times, huh?” The hum in Felix’s voice felt like the bass of a song, one Sylvain could listen to for hours on end.

”Yes Fe, a million times.”

They stared at each other for several minutes, unsure of what to do next. If it was anyone else, Sylvain would have leaned down and kissed them, would have graced them with something tender and soft and gentle and bold.

But this wasn’t anyone else. This was _Felix_ , and Sylvain would be damned if he managed to chase away the most important person he’d ever known for a second time.

So they simply stared, cinnamon melting into honey, forearms touching, a chilly ocean licking hot skin, an odd equilibrium permeating the small space between them.

”Sylvain, we should—”

”Hey guys,” the gentleness of Ashe’s voice kindly turned their gaze towards him, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Dorothea is having a party at her and Hilda’s place and she’s invited all of us. You guys should come.”

”Ashe, it’s already midnight.”

”Oh, well, alright. I understand if you’re tired Felix, I can drive us home, then. Let me just tell Dimitri I’ll just see him tomorr—”

”Aw, come on, Fe! We can’t leave the lovebirds hanging, they need our support,” Sylvain flashed a smile at Ashe, whose freckles melted into the red erupting on the apples of his cheeks.

Felix sighed, allowing his shoulders to relax. “Fine, but you’re driving.”

”Perfect! I’ll go get the car. Mercedes has an early morning, so she’s taking our stuff to the garage. I’ll go tell Dimitri and the others we’ll all be there.” Ashe skipped away, excitedly jingling his car keys.

The childhood friends quickly finished their drinks and stood up at the same time, Sylvain catching Felix by the elbow as he stumbled a bit off the stool.

_Hmph, a lightweight._

”So, you up for a late night?”

Sylvain hoped he was able to conceal the shudder that trickled down his spine, “A late night proposition on our first encounter after seven years? I didn’t know you were so _bold._ ”

Felix rolled his eyes, legs moving towards the front door of the bar, “You’re a dumbass, Gautier.”


	2. Chapter 2

Felix rested his head against the window pane, relishing in the coolness of the glass, applying as much pressure as he was comfortable with to stop the throbbing in his temple. The night lights of the city illuminated the amber in his eyes as they passed on by, refracting off the sharp edges, mirroring the glowing heat rising into his chest from the pit of his stomach. He’d never been caught so off guard, the unanticipated reunion flooded his brain with faded memories of his childhood friends he usually only thought about one at a time. The dust of each one clouded his head and settled into the crevices.

He was certainly not unhappy to see them. If Felix was being honest, a warm wave of relief crashed into his torso, seafoams of easy familiarity spilled through the gaps of his ribcage and caressed his heart upon seeing his old friends, which surprised him.

His departure from his home town was unceremonious to say the least. He remembered Ingrid’s soft pout, golden eyebrows furrowed in confusion and grief. She hugged him not unlike she did that evening, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, the pressure whispering the words she uttered moments before— _Don’t forget about us._ Her hair smelled of mint. It was longer then, Felix’s fingers slipped through the strands as he awkwardly returned the hug, his hands barely hovering over the small of her back. Tonight her embrace asked a question, and Felix felt it linger at the nape of his neck— _Where have you been?_ He made sure to avoid her gaze, he knew he would sink into those pools of jade.

Dimitri reacted just as he anticipated—bewildered and _still_ full of grief. Felix could see it in the steel trapping the frost of his eyes, he wanted to slap them out of his head. He wanted to tackle him to the ground and demand he stop looking at him like that, after all this time. He wanted to tear his pale yellow hair out, wanted to call him an animal, wanted to call him a boar. Back then, Dimitri apologized, or at least tried to. _I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to—_ But Felix cut him off, unwilling and unable to hear the rest of that apology made of smoke. _Get help._ That’s all Felix was willing to give him.

Still, despite the statuesque awkwardness and the lingering resentment, Felix would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little warmth flicker at the pit of his stomach. It was briefly extinguished, however, at the mention of Glenn.

 _Of course_ they mentioned Glenn. That’s where they left off all those years ago, where else would they go? The last image they had of him before now was of him turning his heel, stray strands of midnight falling out of his messy bun, tied up just how Glenn used to wear it. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his guitar case in hand, covered in stickers he’s never cared for but Glenn insisted he should have, because Felix was a musician, just like his brother, just like his father.

Unsurprisingly, his saving grace was Sylvain.

_Sylvain._

Felix was grateful to have been pulled away from the conversation. He absentmindedly traced his wrist, remembering the sudden heat that flushed up his forearm, danced onto his face, and settled on his cheeks as Sylvain's warm hand tugged him along towards relief. He wondered if Sylvain noticed. Probably. Despite his aloof demeanor, it was all for show, that man noticed everything.

And while Felix wasn't as perceptive, he didn't have to be. He thought the familiar shock of red he noticed from the corner of his eye while he walked on stage was a trick of the lights, a weird flash of imagination, a stranger. But as he slowly glazed over the crowd to give that illusion a chance to dissipate, he was met with lovely red half curls and a pair of warm brown eyes that were only ever as soft as they were when they were looking at him.

It was easy to keep eye contact from that distance, the intensity muffled by the small sea of bodies as well as being preoccupied with playing his guitar. But once they were side by side, Felix made it a point to look at everything but the molten carob of Sylvain's eyes. Too much time had passed, and even then, Felix always had a hard time accepting the way he looked at him.

Still, Sylvain always found a way to make him return his gaze. _You look...good._ Felix tried not to linger on the hesitation, tried not to linger on the way the honey of Sylvain's eyes slicked up and down as he took Felix in. But he did linger, and he lingered too long because he remembered that Sylvain is Sylvain and for all Felix knew those three words were just spun sugar swirled around a stick like cotton candy and presented as a temporary sweet treat.

And Felix hated sweets.

But Sylvain accepted his challenge and denied any ulterior motives. _I fucking missed you._ Words shouldn't have such a colossal effect, but they do, they do and Felix found his chest on the verge of collapse and then _...a million times._ And those words whirled in his head like melting ice in a glass of whiskey, repeated over and over, a million times. And Felix found himself wanting to believe them, wanting to believe Sylvain. _A million times, huh?_

But words have a colossal effect, even when they're from seven years ago. And Felix will never forget a pair of hardened brown eyes, like petrified cedar, splintering in tandem with the cadence of his goodbye. _No big deal, it's not like we don't have phones. Besides, Felix won't even miss us._

Felix's father said he decided they should move away to start fresh, honor the memory of the dead by pressing onward, no looking back, even if it was over two years since Glenn had passed. He also mentioned that perhaps a change of pace would help soften the edges of Felix's assumed cruelty, fifteen is a difficult age after all. Felix wonders if the same could be said about seventeen, if that age could elicit such hollow, cruel goodbyes punctured by splinters. Felix decided it didn't matter, and so he never asked.

"Hey, Felix?"

Annette's worried voice from the back seat snapped him back to the present. He realized he was still holding on to his wrist. He quickly let it go.

"I'm really sorry for pressing you about your brother, I wasn't thinking," she continued. Felix didn't have to turn around to know her teal eyes were glimmering not unlike the surface of a pond under a hesitating moon.

"Yeah," Lysithea added, "we definitely lacked a bit of tact there, huh? That was uncalled for on all of our parts."

"It's fine," he huffed, swallowing every bit of annoyance that threatened to spill out. It wasn't their fault, they simply didn't know, he'd never mentioned Glenn in the four years they'd all been friends. Still, Felix's habit of sharpening the edges of his words was a hard one to kick, "just don't bring it up again."

"Done!" Ashe's soft enthusiasm was sometimes a little...much for Felix, but he certainly appreciated it in that moment.

At least, for a moment.

"So," Ashe's voice twisting something sweet and impish into the air, "how come you didn't mention you knew who Dimitri was when I told you about him?"

Felix scoffed, "Dimitri is a common enough name, I didn't think it was relevant."

"I see. Well, in any case, I won't pry into your relationship with him. It's clear there's something heavy there from the way you were looking at each other," Felix dared a look from the corner of his eye and felt his stomach drop as he watched Ashe's smile curl into an uncharacteristic smirk that's starting to become a little too natural, "but his roommate Sylvain on the other hand, well I think he's fair game."

"He's just another childhood friend," a half-truth.

"Oh, _come on_ ," Annette leaned forward and clutched the back of the passenger seat, shaking it a little as she spoke. If it were anyone else, Felix could have punched them. But it was Annette, and Felix would grind his teeth to dust before even thinking of reacting horribly to her, "we all noticed how you couldn't keep your eyes off each other while we performed. You _never_ look at the crowd for approval."

"Because I don't need it, and you guys are looking into something that's not even there."

"Please, even if somehow everyone hallucinated the intense staring, surely you can agree you allowing him to snatch you so quickly and whisk you away is very unlike you."

Felix groaned at Lysithea's words, groaned at the fact they were even having this conversation in the car ride leading them to the party where Dimitri and Ingrid and _Sylvain_ would most likely take the opportunity to grill him about the last seven years.

"Yeah, exactly! I mean, you let me braid your hair and stuff, but I always ask for permission. This Sylvain guy grabbed you no problem and you didn't even frown. Felix, could it be that you lo—"

" _Annette,_ " Felix closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stopping himself from spitting out any sort of venom, "you've been spending too much time with Hilda. Drop it. I don't want to talk about this."

Felix flushed at the giggles trembling out of his three friends. He tried to convince himself that the heat caressing his cheeks and blossoming in his ears was due to the nonexistent anger he felt towards them and not due to Annette's interrupted proposition.

"Sorry, Felix," Ashe smiled, softening the lingering edge lying dormant in Felix's bones, "we were just teasing, we know it's none of our business." Felix turned to face him and looked into those impossibly bright green eyes, glittering with an unspoken invitation, letting Felix know he could speak to Ashe whenever he was ready.

"Whatever."

+++

Although Hilda and Dorothea only invited their closest friends, their apartment still felt too cramped, and Felix found himself leaning against a wall, clutching onto his beer next to Sylvain, who was weaving flattery in hopes that Hilda would bite.

"You know, it's not every day a guy comes across a girl as cute as yourself, let alone a _drummer_ as cute as yourself."

"Oh stop, you don't even know if I'm any good. For all you know, I'm the worst drummer ever," Hilda's giggle popped something pink and sweet in the air, as if she were smacking a piece of bubblegum, rubbery and artificial.

"Nah, I'm sure you're plenty good. I bet you're good at a lot of things," Sylvain took a small step toward Hilda, eyes narrowed into brown slants, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, just as manufactured as Hilda's giggle. Felix chugged the rest of his beer hoping it would chase away the needle-like sensation pricking at his skin.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" Hilda accepted Sylvain's challenge, and Felix watched a wicked sparkle twinkle in those darkened brown eyes.

"A guy just knows these things. And you know, I'm also _very_ good at a lot of things. From one ten to another, we could show each other what we're good at." The twinkle in Sylvain's eyes grew brighter and Felix had half a mind to smash his empty beer bottle into his stupid, shit-eating, handsome face.

"Is that so?"

The trio turned towards the velveteen voice. Claude sauntered over and draped an arm over Hilda, eyes like jade narrowed at Sylvain with a small smile full of suspicious splendor to match.

"Hey man, I'm not looking for trouble," Sylvain laughed, hands sprung up in surrender. Hilda didn't even try to stifle her giggle as Claude raised an eyebrow. Felix simply scoffed, making sure Sylvain caught the roll of his eyes.

"I am, but not in the way you might think," Claude stared at Sylvain before moving his gaze towards Hilda, lingering on her for a moment before returning it to Sylvain once more. Felix felt the needles push even deeper into his pores.

"Well that's certainly an interesting proposition," Sylvain locked his hands behind his head, leaning a bit onto Felix for reassurance. Felix figured he'd shove him off, make him topple to the ground. But he didn't. He remained still, not even a scowl curled onto his face.

Silence permeated the air until Sylvain, Hilda, and Claude burst out laughing.

"Oh man, can you imagine?" Hilda giggled, "Who knew Felix had such a charming and delusional friend hidden away. Why have you kept him from us for so long?"

They all turned to face him, and Felix became viscerally aware of just how tight he was holding on to his beer bottle. His eyes found Sylvain's, and he must have had a particular expression plastered on his face because as soon as he met Sylvain's gaze, the latter's softened into something apologetic and full of remorse.

And Felix couldn't stand it.

"Because he's a fucking idiot," he stormed off without bothering to listen to Sylvain's retort, but Felix didn't exactly have enough room to run far.

He stuffed his empty beer bottle in the trash and scanned the room for a place to go. Ashe and Dimitri were cozied up on the couch talking to Caspar while Linhardt napped on his shoulder. Annette, Lysithea, Dorothea, and Ingrid were sitting in a circle on the carpeted floor, Ingrid's face flushed crimson as Dorothea whispered in her ear. Felix's only saving grace was the small balcony beyond the living room.

Felix closed the sliding glass door behind him, regretting leaving his jacket behind as a chilly autumn breeze billowed around him. He watched the plump leaves of the hanging plants rustle, no doubt a result of Dedue's and Mercedes' influence. The balcony was too small for chairs, but Felix didn't mind. He leaned against the brownstone wall, closing his eyes as he tried to pull the needles out of his skin.

The night breathed more cold air onto him, but he decided the gentle quiet was worth gritting his teeth a little, the only sound coming from a song playing inside, the lyrics muffled against the glass door.

_Who are ya?_

_Who are ya?_

_With your hand on the neck of your father's guitar_

_You wanna move toward the light_

_You wanna stay in the dark_

Felix opened his eyes at the click of the glass door closing. He turned to see Sylvain, who took advantage of the small space and leaned against the wall next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Felix tried to ignore how quickly the needles disappeared at his touch.

"It's really nice out." Soft. That was the only way Felix could describe the sound of Sylvain's voice. Soft and warm and kind and Felix knew it was all for him. So he crossed his arms and sharpened his edges.

"It's cold," he huffed and Sylvain laughed something small and quiet and Felix couldn't help but wonder if he hallucinated everything that happened ten minutes ago because how can someone with a laugh like that also contort his face into something so fake?

But he knew he didn't.

"Fe, are you okay?"

_Who are ya?_

_Who are ya?_

_With your hand on your prick and your eyes on the stars_

_And you wonder if the satellites are sending you some invitation_

_You wanna move toward the light_

_You wanna stay in the dark_

"I'm fine," he seethed through gritted teeth, forcing himself to look through the plant vines in front of him instead of stealing a glance at Sylvain.

"Are you sure? Was it because of what happened in there? Because—"

"You haven't changed at all," Felix crossed his arms even tighter, fixing his gaze downward at the points of his boots.

"Admittedly, that wasn't my finest hour. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"Hmph, you're as selfish as ever."

_And then it rains on you, and then it pours_

_And then the angel of the future is locking all her doors_

"Alright, maybe," Felix felt Sylvain move, the cold of the evening taking advantage of the absence of Sylvain's touch. Felix kept his gaze on the floor and watched as Sylvain's feet moved in front of his, "but you don't get to fall off the face of the planet and call me selfish. Where have you been? We kept in touch for a solid year and then nothing. What happened?"

"I got a job and decided I didn't want to rely on my father's money, so I got my own phone and my own plan and a new number."

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, let us know? Let me know, at least?"

_And then you're shocked at how you've become some crocodile form of the truth_

_Like a forest coming up through the floor_

Felix stayed silent. Of course he thought about it, but he was so tired of hearing about Sylvain's endeavors with girls whose names he didn't bother to learn, tired of Sylvain never acknowledging what happened when Felix was thirteen and he was fifteen and instead sweeping it under the warmth of strangers he didn't care about. It stirred something sharp and ugly in Felix, each story adding to a bubbling cauldron of venom that sat at his core. It didn't seem like Sylvain missed him all that much, so he decided to cut ties altogether. He convinced himself it was for the best. After all, Sylvain did say it was no big deal.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

_So may I hang my hat in this hallway, dear_

_I've made it almost halfway, dear_

_May I hang from the branches of the past above that crocodile and his crocodile tears_

"Fe, I meant it when I said I missed you," and Felix could hear it in the silk of Sylvain's voice, could feel the warmth of his admission clash with the cold air.

"You're making it hard as shit for me to believe you."

"Well, can you look at me, then? Please?" Felix felt his chest tighten at the shake of Sylvain's voice, felt the _please_ fill each chamber of his heart. He let out a breathy sigh and darted his eyes upwards to look at Sylvain.

His pale cheeks betrayed him immediately as they flushed pink at the proximity of the man before him. He was taller and broader, the strength of his physique accentuated by the snugness of his shirt. Felix stared at those soft half curls first, smoother and richer than any red velvet dessert. He moved his gaze to the middle of his face, not quite meeting his eyes just yet. He counted the sun-kissed freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose like sprinkled brown sugar. When Felix finally met his eyes, he felt his shoulders relax as he watched the yellow glow of the balcony light melt those carob eyes into molten honey, glimmering with with a dash of genuine yearning.

Felix always hated sweets, but he could never in any lifetime hate Sylvain.

Another breeze swirled between them, forcing some of the shorter strands of Felix's hair to spiral out of his ponytail. Sylvain tucked a strand behind Felix's ear, the warmth of his touch causing goosebumps to ripple throughout Felix's skin, replacing any leftover needles. His finger then trickled down and traced the edge of his jaw, stopping at his chin to tilt his head slightly upwards. Felix tried and failed not to shudder.

Sylvain leaned in very close. Felix decided he smelled like bergamot.

"Is this okay?" So soft, barely a whisper and Felix could only bring himself to slowly nod in response.

It wasn't much of a kiss, not really. It was more of a gentle brushing of lips, but in that moment, Felix could feel the warmth of Sylvain's sincerity bleed into his head. He found himself remembering play fighting with sticks and being carried on Sylvain's back when he grew tired. He remembered crying over little things and how his best friend would gently wipe away his tears and reassure him that everything would be okay, that it was okay to cry. He remembered a small, tender comfort in the wake of Glenn's death, and he remembered disruption in the form of an angry father with raised hands, and he remembered a splintered goodbye and how heavy words can be.

So Felix slowly placed his hands on Sylvain's shoulders and lightly pushed him back.

"That's enough."

He watched the honey of those eyes dissipate and darken into something wounded.

"Of course," Sylvain sighed, gracing Felix with one of his signature sugary smiles, "I know I'm not worth the troub—"

"Don't do that."

There it was, Sylvain's undeserved self-loathing that plagued him their whole lives and would sooner or later be his demise. Felix felt sick at the prospect of Sylvain still feeling this way, even after all this time. His guilt tasted like tar.

"Don't do what, Fe?"

"Don't project that onto me. You know it's not true and you know I don't feel that way." Felix closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, "We just...have a lot of ground to cover."

Sylvain's eyes lightened once again as he allowed his shoulders to relax. Felix didn't even realize he was holding so much tension there.

"You're right, you're right."

They stood in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the rustling of the plant leaves and the muffled music from indoors. Felix was grateful for it, but he was starting to feel a little overwhelmed.

"I should get going."

"I don't blame you. I can give you a lift if you want."

Felix's chest clenched at the idea, wanting desperately to say yes.

"It's alright, I came here with Ashe anyway."

"Fair enough."

Both men entered the apartment once more, and Sylvain let out a hearty laugh while Felix scoffed at the scene before them.

Ashe, Dimitri, Caspar, and Linhardt were all toppled on each other, limbs sticking out at odd angles, every single one of them out cold. Annette was prancing around in the living room, humming along to whatever song was playing while Lysithea cheered her on. Hilda and Claude were snickering in the kitchen, and Dorothea and Ingrid were nowhere to be found.

"On second thought, I'll take you up on that offer. My friends are apparently idiots."

Sylvain chuckled as he pulled his car keys out of his back pocket and jingled them in the air, "Let's go, then."

+++

The car ride to Felix and Ashe's apartment was relatively quiet, save for whatever song played on the radio. It didn't take long to reach their destination, and as Felix turned to open the passenger door, Sylvain gently grabbed his wrist.

"Wait."

Felix stared at Sylvain, trying to read his expression as the diluted moonlight shimmered on his skin. He settled back down into the passenger seat, waiting for Sylvain to continue, ignoring the feeling of his ribs constricting his chest further.

"We should really get together and actually catch up soon. You know Ingrid will insist."

"We're playing again tomorrow night, I'm sure Ashe has already told Dimitri."

"I mean, watching you play was mesmerizing to say the least," Felix tried not to blush at that, "but I mean actually get together for lunch or dinner or something. It's been a long time."

Felix exhaled heavily as he thought about having to actually confront his childhood friends about the last seven years. But if Sylvain was there, well, he figured it wouldn't be so bad.

"Alright. I have a couple private lessons I need to teach in the morning, and I should tackle the pile of homework I have, but I guess I can make some time before we play. It's...necessary I suppose. I guess we should also exchange numbers.”

Sylvain grinned before letting go of his wrist. They quickly traded contacts and Sylvain gave him one more small, soft smile, "Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow."

Felix got out of the car before he chanced another glance at Sylvain, "See you tomorrow," and with that, he shut the door and watched Sylvain pull out of the parking lot.

On his trek up the stairs to his apartment, Felix wondered if Sylvain would have chased him like this if he never broke contact. He quickly shook the thought out of his head, rattled it out like an unwanted worm. It really didn't matter, because Sylvain was chasing him now, and Felix decided that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching the sun filter through the blinds as it slowly rose and illuminated the dust hovering in the air, Sylvain realized he never fell asleep.

He laid there in his bed, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other placed carefully over his chest, more out of necessity than comfort to make sure he was breathing properly.

He exhaled something long and breathy as he remembered chapped lips plush against his own. It wasn't much of anything, really, but it was quick and soft and _warm_ in a way that made seven years feel like seven seconds and seven centuries all at once. He didn't notice the way his fingers found themselves softly pressed against his lips.

Still, he couldn't help that dark feeling twist something sharp and awful in the pit of his stomach as he remembered Felix's hands gently pushing him away, but he wasn’t allowed to feel bothered, was he? Not when it was entirely his fault.

He felt a pinch in his chest while he remembered how he couldn't help himself right in front of Felix, how he still had some leftover pettiness locked up, reserved for the day he would see him again. Even on the balcony, as Felix drew the line in the sand and Sylvain accepted it, he could feel that dark notion at his core begging him to find some sort of excuse, any small, stupid excuse to smudge the line away, ruin it the way he did all those years ago.

Because as he watched the sun refract off the mirror on his dresser, he is reminded of wide amber eyes glimmering with equal parts uncertainty and hope, and Sylvain decided he didn't deserve to chase away the former, didn't deserve that hopeful sheen glazed over almond-shaped amber that asked for him to try.

He also decided he would in fact try, because as much as he felt, as much as he _knew_ he didn't deserve this, he knew Felix did, and he owed him that much, at least.

He also decided to try because he was very much in love with him, and perhaps it was selfish he still felt that way despite his behavior, but he needed to see this through anyway.

He continued to watch the dust swirl and curl in the air as the sun fully settled. He let out a small laugh.

_I really need to dust my damn room._

Sylvain's laugh transformed into a fully defined smirk as he heard the front door click open. He jumped out of his bed, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and gleefully strode out of his room to find Dimitri leaning against the frame of their front door, his fair blonde hair messily cascaded over his icy blues, hugged by deep set under eye circles.

"Welcome home, your highness!"

His roommate winced and brought a tired hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Sylvain, please, do you have to yell?"

"Well, excuse me for wanting to greet one of my dearest friends with a warm welcome." He glided over to their kitchen and pulled out two mugs from a cabinet. "Besides, you're surprisingly grumpy for someone who presumably spent the night with his boyfriend." Sylvain shot him a large grin as he spooned coffee grounds into their brewer, the kind of grin he used when he tried not to grimace, full of fake delight rivaling the artificiality of alternative sugar. He had to remind himself that he liked Ashe, that Ashe was _good_.

Dimitri didn't notice, but rather sputtered at Sylvain's comment, "It wasn't like that! I...may have had one too many drinks, and so I fell asleep up until about thirty minutes ago. Ashe was kind enough to give me a ride home because a certain roommate of mine was nowhere to be found."

The smell of brewing coffee bloomed in the air and Sylvain watched Dimitri's shoulders relax as the aroma curled around his nose. "Hey, it's not my fault you decided to pass out cold on top of Ashe and his friends. Ashe was Fe's ride home, and he definitely wasn't in any condition to take him. So being the indisputable gentlemen I am, I offered to take him instead. I figured your darling Ashe would take care of you, eventually."

Dimitri perked up at that, "Felix let you give him a ride home? I assume, then, you spoke about some, erm, things about our past?"

Sylvain poured them both a cup of coffee, adding three spoonfuls of sugar into his and nothing into Dimitri's, he wouldn't be able to taste much anyway. "If you're asking if he mentioned that stunt you pulled when we were teenagers, he didn't."

"Hmm," Dimitri nodded a thank you as he took his mug, "I'm glad you were able to speak with him. Although I must admit, I'm a little envious, I wish I had given myself the opportunity to properly apologize."

"Well, you're in luck. I convinced our prickly Fe to agree to have dinner with us before he and Ashe play tonight. You and Ingrid will have your chance to hash things out. Speaking of which, what the hell happened to Ingrid?" Dimitri's cheeks instantly flushed vermillion at his question.

"Uh, well, when I went looking for her in the apartment, I discovered she was sleeping. Comfortably."

"Aw, come on, you know you gotta give me more than that." Sylvain took a long sip of his coffee, his brown eyes slanting, rivaling the swirling darkness in his mug, flustering his roommate enough to give in.

"Well, erm," he took a sip out of his mug to stall, but Sylvain was patient, "I made sure to politely knock before entering, but I was growing worried, and I was still coming to. I...I opened Dorothea's door and found them sound asleep in her bed, under the covers."

"Our Ingrid, huh? It makes sense, though, Dorothea is definitely a catch. You think we should give her a call right now?"

Dimitri looked mortified, "Goddess, no!"

"I'm kidding! We will have to get a hold of her eventually, I'm sure you don't want to face her wrath if we were to meet up with Fe without her."

Dimitri shuddered, "Definitely not." He walked over to place his empty mug in the sink. "Thank you for coffee. I promised Ashe I would spend some time with him, and I am in desperate need of a shower. Please let me know the time and place we're meeting Felix."

Sylvain nodded as he watched Dimitri retreat to his room. He checked the time and decided it was still too early to text Felix. Although, he wouldn't have put it past his childhood best friend to have been up at dawn to go for a jog. Still, he figured he should shower as well and at least reach a "member of society" level of presentability for the day.

+++

The restaurant Felix suggested was only five minutes away from Sylvain's apartment, so he decided he'd walk there. He told himself it was to stretch his legs, to lessen the responsibility of the evening so he could drink to his heart's content later and simply ride share home. But at his core, his softening core that had been becoming less and less poisonous as the day continued, he knew he was nervous, knew how paper thin the ice he was skating on was, and so he walked to ease his apprehension, to shake it out of his legs. 

He watched the sky begin to fade into the evening, the black and indigo hues of night swirled into a goldenrod sunset. His heart jumped at the thought of the midnight sky blanketing the city, at the thought of long, soft, uneven midnight strands of hair tucked behind ears and pulled into ponytails. He started to walk a little faster.

And then he saw him, crouched near the ground giving his attention to something, Sylvain couldn’t quite tell what it was from the distance. What he could see was a guitar case slung over Felix's back, resting on the black and gray flannel that billowed softly in the breeze. He noticed that lovely black hair pulled into a tight bun, and his heart fluttered along with the swing of a couple loose strands framing a pale face which rivaled the splendor of the full moon.

As he got closer, Sylvain realized Felix was petting a stray cat, a small orange tabby who looked like it was particularly fond of ear scratches, and Felix indulged it plenty.

"You know, I always knew you were a cat person."

Felix gave the tabby a couple more chin scratches before he finally stood and Sylvain could see the ghost of a small smile haunting the corners of his mouth.

"You're late."

"Only by a couple minutes! Are Dimitri and Ingrid even here yet? They left just a few minutes after I did."

"No, they're not," Felix huffed, "it looks like you guys still haven't learned the meaning of punctuality."

"We were only late to one of your talent shows! And maybe a track meet or two, but can't you find it in your heart to forgive us, just this once?"

Felix gave him an empty eye roll, "You're still a dumbass," he said with no bite. He nudged his head towards the door of the place, "Come on, let's at least grab a table while we wait for them."

The place was small and unassuming, but it carried a warm charm that Sylvain couldn't help but appreciate. Wooden tables and booths dotted along the beige walls, and there were lush green plants hanging high above the tables. The smell of spices drifted and curled in the air, and Sylvain felt a small pang of hunger ripple through his stomach. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day, his mind too busy running rampant to sort out his woes, flinging them into a deep corner.

The hostess smiled at Felix with an air of familiarity as he walked straight towards a booth in a far corner. Sylvain took a seat while Felix safely propped his guitar against the wall behind them, making sure to leave plenty of room for the servers to walk. He paused, though, and Sylvain watched those mahogany eyes fill with uncertainty as they darted between the empty seat beside him and the opposing side of the booth. He let out a sigh and took the seat next to Sylvain, who couldn’t help but allow a large smile to dimple his cheeks and push them up.

"Wanna cuddle?" This earned him a sharp jab to the side.

"Don't make me regret agreeing to this," Felix muttered, "I would rather not have to sit next to Ingrid or Dimitri."

"Looks like I'm your favorite, then," and something about knowing Felix would prefer to sit next to Sylvain, would pick him over their other childhood friends, stirred something warm and electrifying in his chest. He took a chance and casually swung his arm over the back of the booth behind Felix, who decided not to lean into it, but also did not push him away. Sylvain quietly celebrated.

"Hiya, Felix! Are you having the usual?" The server smiled at both of them. She took note of Sylvain's arm hanging behind Felix and her smile deepened.

"Yes, thank you, but we're also waiting for some other friends."

"No problem! I'll come back, then. Let me bring you some water in the meantime." 

"You're a regular huh?" Sylvain hummed, amused, "How often do you come here?"

" A few times a week. Mercedes' husband Dedue owns the place and will often leave it open a little late so we can have something to eat after playing," Felix began to blush and Sylvain thought it may have been his favorite thing in the world, "and Ashe and I may place some takeout orders here and there. The food is really good, Dedue is talented, to say the least."

"How is that, living with Ashe?" Sylvain tried not to let his face falter.

"It's," Felix paused, as if he contemplated on just how honest with his feelings he should be, "nice. Ashe is pleasant enough, keeps his area clean, and we have a lot in common, surprisingly. He's a little too enthusiastic sometimes, but I definitely appreciate his bass-playing skills."

Somehow, this hurt Sylvain in a way he wasn't expecting, and that dark feeling returned and began to bubble and boil and burn and he tried to not let too much of it spill from between his teeth.

"Ah, I guess it was easy to find a replacement for me."

Felix's stare was sharp, the margins of his amber eyes pointed like the edges of swords, "What?"

Sylvain shrugged, "I'm just saying, looks like you've been getting by just fine without me. At least the person filling the space I left, or maybe even the one you created, is a good one."

" _Sylvain_ ," Felix's face bloomed crimson, anger seeping out of his pores as he leveled with Sylvain, "I already told you not to project that shit onto me. I didn't _replace_ you, I didn't go looking for someone to fill any kind of left or created space. I made friends with my roommate my freshman year of college and he happened to be Ashe. He was my only friend for a while until I met everyone else, and maybe I was looking for a new change of pace but," he carefully made eye contact with Sylvain, allowing the cinnamon to swirl into honey. Sylvain held his breath, Felix always hated eye contact, "I could never replace you, you're irreplaceable," Felix finished with a whisper, and Sylvain felt like an asshole.

"Irreplaceable?" Sylvain tried to hide the genuine cheer that danced along the syllables, but he failed.

Felix's expression softened, and the pointed edges of his eyes melted into gold, "Irreplaceable."

"Shit, Fe. I'm sorry."

Felix closed his eyes and simply sighed, finally leaning against Sylvain's touch, the back of his head rested on his arm.

"Hey, guys! Sorry we're late, traffic was terrible." Ingrid and Dimitri arrived and took their seats as the server returned with water. Felix recommended that Ingrid order an extra side of rice for herself along with her meal and for Dimitri to get the same extra spicy curry he was having, which made Sylvain all the more enamored because he _knew_ Felix not only chose this place because it was his favorite, but because it would give Ingrid the opportunity to order as much as she wanted without dishing out a bunch of cash, and Dimitri the opportunity to taste most of what he was eating, even if he'd never admit it.

Felix still cared, of course he still cared.

"How was hanging out with Ashe and Dorothea?" Sylvain narrowed his eyes at Ingrid, an impish smirk curling something wicked.

"It was fun! The four of us went to that one new museum downtown to see some pieces Dorothea's friend has displayed there," Ingrid smiled at Felix before raising her eyebrow at Sylvain's slanted eyes, "They're all so nice. Ashe, Dorothea, and even their friend Bernie, we had a great time."

"I heard from a bird that you found may have had an especially great time with Dorothea last night," Felix groaned loudly at his insinuation while Ingrid, with cheeks reddening by the second, smacked the back of Dimitri's head.

"You told him!?"

"My apologies, Ingrid," Dimitri winced as she smacked him again, "Sylvain just...he weaseled it out of me. I was powerless."

"It's okay, Dimitri, you can just say I'm a master weaver of words. So Ingrid, tell us all abou—" Sylvain earned a hard kick to the shin and while he was sure he'd feel that bruise throb for a couple days, he noticed a small smile form on Felix's face, noticed a bit of amusement dance in the reflection of amber. He decided the bruise was worth it.

"That's none of your business! We're here to catch up with Felix, not talk about my love life," she gave Felix another smile, her eyes full of verdant earnestness.

"Precisely." Dimitri was desperate to change the subject, "Felix, tell us, how are you?"

The server came back with their orders as Dimitri's question lingered in the air. Sylvain felt guilty while he pulled the comfort of his arm away from Felix in order to properly eat, but he was grateful for the server's timing, giving Felix to do something with his hands.

"I'm fine," he responded, shoving a large spoonful of curry in his mouth to excuse his lack of a response.

"That's good to hear, I'm glad," Ingrid shoveled a couple mouthfuls of her own dish before her eyebrows furrowed and her smile faltered. Sylvain braced himself. "Ugh, to hell with the niceties. Felix, what happened? Where have you been?"

There was a long pause as Felix took another bite of his dinner, a glare piercing through the space between him and Ingrid. Sylvain looked to Dimitri to find him frozen in place, pale blue eyes wide with apprehension. Sylvain took a chance and quietly placed a hand on Felix's knee and he could feel the latter relax a bit.

"I moved, remember?"

"Yes, you moved, and then you stopped keeping in touch. You weren't doing a swell job of that to begin with, but at least we heard from you once every couple of months. _What happened?_ " Ingrid was seething and Dimitri was suddenly invested in the contents of his spoon. Sylvain felt Felix tremble with anger under his palm before he it pushed away.

"I got a new phone and lost all my contacts," and Sylvain could feel the air shift with Felix's wariness, they both knew it was a terrible answer.

"I expected you to come up with a better excuse. Really, Felix? That's all?

"What do you want me to say, Ingrid?" Felix's face contorted into a full scowl and he gripped the fabric of his jeans right above his knees. Sylvain's chest tightened. "That I didn't want to keep in touch? That I wanted to just move on from everything, move on from you guys? That I'm sorry?" He huffed out a breath full of poison. "Because I'm not."

"You're being terrible," and Ingrid had to look away before her next jumble of words fumbled out of her mouth, "Is it about Glenn? What do you think he'd think about your behavior right now?"

Sylvain's hand immediately flew to Felix's clenched fist, delicately prying it open to properly hold it. Felix relented as his eyes narrowed into slits. Sylvain had half a mind to interject, to cut Ingrid off, but he knew Felix would resent him for that.

"Glenn wouldn't think a single damn thing because he's dead, he's been dead for nine years."

"How can you just say it like that, like you don't car—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Sylvain felt Felix squeeze his hand, "I'm the one who held his ashes in my hands, watched them scatter as the wind took him away."

"You're not the only one who lost someone," she whispered, "you're not the only one who loved him," and all eyes pointed to Dimitri, who looked like he was huffing instead of breathing, clenching his spoon so hard Sylvain truly believed he'd snap it in half.

"He was my fucking brother—"

And before Sylvain finally decided to cut things off and end it, Dimitri's voice sliced through the air, puncturing through the argument like a lance impaling a lung.

_”Enough.”_

The air stilled and the only sounds that could be heard were the distant murmurs of the other guests and the sizzling of the kitchen. Sylvain gently rubbed his thumb across the back of Felix's hand.

"We didn't come here to argue about the past," Dimitri continued, "we came here to reunite as old friends, and hopefully, as current friends. Let's not squander the opportunity with empty arguments."

Sylvain was baffled by Dimitri's dismissal of the past, but then he thought it wasn’t so strange as he remembered Ashe. He turned to Felix, whose gaze shifted downwards towards his plate. Ingrid simply exhaled through her nose before barreling on with her meal.

It was quiet for the next couple minutes, the tension thick in the air and curling along with the smell of the restaurant. Sylvain realized Felix never let go of his hand, and when he gave him a questioning glance, Felix's cheeks blossomed as pink as peonies. Sylvain smiled at him before he broke the silence.

"So, tell us about this Bernie person. Is their art really that good?"

"Oh, she's wonderful!" Ingrid's face lit up at the mention of their afternoon.

"She's also a writer, Sylvain," Dimitri added, "maybe the two of you can get together and workshop your stuff."

"You've been writing again?" Felix's voice was curious and _soft_ and Sylvain swore he can feel his heartbeat through his wrist.

"Uh, yeah. I'm actually in grad school for nonfiction writing."

Felix raised a brow but added nothing. Sylvain was certainly grateful, Felix was well aware that he definitely did not want to have _that_ conversation in front of their blonde counterparts.

The rest of their evening together went on relatively smoothly, Dimitri and Ingrid were grateful for Felix's recommendations, and their conversations were light as they discussed their areas of study. Ingrid mentioned her ambitions of becoming a prominent historian while Dimitri talked of taking over his father's real estate business. Sylvain learned that Felix was in his last semester of his undergrad as a music major with a concentration in composition, and had already been accepted by the same university's music composition graduate program. Sylvain, who was still holding on to Felix's hand, gave him one more squeeze at his admission.

By the time they paid and were out the door, the childhood quartet was amicable and relaxed. Sylvain sighed in relief as an autumn breeze curled around them.

"Do the two of you want to ride with us? We are going to the same place after all and your guitar looks heavy," Ingrid's question was hopeful as she jingled her car keys.

"No thanks, the bar isn't far from here and the walk usually helps me clear my head before performing," Ingrid's eyes widened at the honesty of Felix's answer, and Sylvain and Dimitri exchanged hopeful glances.

"Sylvain, what about you?"

Felix turned to him, the moonlight reflecting off the hopefulness glimmering in the amber of his eyes, "I think I'm gonna walk with Fe."

"Alright, we'll see you guys there," and as the four of them parted ways, Ingrid turned, "Felix, I'm really sorry."

Felix looked over his shoulder and his expression softened, "I suppose I am too."

They both nodded before turning away, and Sylvain relished in the fact that he had Felix all to himself again.

They were quiet for a minute, Felix walking a step ahead to lead the way. Sylvain glanced up at the night sky, stared at the few stars freckling the dark blanket of the atmosphere. He couldn't help but think that the evening heavens were no match for the lacquer sheen of Felix’s hair, glimmering a shade of blue not unlike the iridescent oil slick veins that run through crow feathers. Sylvain matched his pace before he could fly away.

“That didn’t go as badly as I thought it would,” Sylvain made sure his smile was small and reassuring, he knew Felix could tell the difference between the masks he wore. “You guys didn’t get to talk about, you know, everything, but you and Ingrid didn’t claw each other’s eyes out.”

Felix’s glare was full of nothing but golden playfulness as he smirked, “It’s a start, I guess. I know Dimitri and I have...some ways to go,” Sylvain could see the hesitation hovering over his lips, “but so do we.”

Sylvain laughed, hearty and a little loud and he could see how infectious it was when he was blessed with a small half smile and goddess he could have melted into a puddle of amour, “I guess we do.”

It was silent between the two of them before Felix broke it after a minute, “Does your dad know you’re in school for creative writing?”

“He surely does, I’m actually in the process of being disowned,” he finished his sentence with a level of cheerful malice skirting the edges of a smile.

“You sound relieved.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m glad to see you pursuing something you enjoy rather than chasing his coattails.” 

Something about the way Felix admitted that he’s glad for Sylvain about anything, let alone his happiness, numbed his palms and the bottom of his feet and he couldn’t conceal the champagne pink sparkling on his cheeks. 

Because that was his favorite part about Felix, wasn't it? He could wax poetic about his impossibly dark hair and the alloy glimmer of his eyes all day and it would all be true. But his favorite part was the cadence of his voice and the small, nuanced waver of his expressions that underscored how much he truly cared once you peeled back the sharp layers. Sure, for most people, Felix's perpetual frown and narrowed glare weren't as endearing as Sylvain thought they were; he loved those prickly parts of him dearly. But the way he quietly took everyone into consideration when picking out a place to eat despite his past reservations about them, the way he still felt any kind of gladness towards Sylvain despite his behavior, the way he gave orange stray tabbies gentle little ear scratches made Sylvain's chest swell and surge and sing until he felt his ears ring and head spin.

“Speaking of fathers,” he dared, “hows Rodrigue?”

Felix stiffened for a moment and something possessed Sylvain to take hold of his hand to soothe him. Felix curled his fingers around his palm.

"He's...fine, I guess," Felix looked at the ground and Sylvain tightened his grip. "He still wants me to work for the recording studio, but he's also infuriatingly understanding of my own ambitions. I just wish he'd stop looking at me like I'm some dollar store version of Glenn."

They stopped in front of the bar and Sylvain moved in front of Felix to cup his face in his hands, allowing their eyes to crash into each other again, to make sure the reassurance and validity of what he wanted to say settled into those salamander irises.

"Don't ever think that, Fe," he leaned in a little closer, Felix didn’t stop him. "You're more than that. Way more. You guys may have looked alike and played the same instruments, but...you're not him, and that's a wonderful thing. You don't have to beat yourself over the unfair burden of living up to his expectations. You're perfect just the way you are." The last couple of words left in a whisper and Sylvain found himself slipping through Felix's long lashes and dipping into warm pools of cider.

"Sylvain," Felix whispered as the distance began to close, "what am I to you?"

"Everything," he responded without a trace of hesitation. He found himself asking once again, "Is this okay?" And was granted with another nod as the space between them vanished and all that was left in between was a whirlwind of breathlessness, lips gently colliding to press all those things left unsaid onto each other with such hopeful tenderness Sylvain almost thought he deserved it. They broke apart to catch their breath, but just a moment after Sylvain leaned in again and Felix met him halfway. Sylvain almost shivered at the way Felix's cheeks felt in his palms, soft and sharp all at once, tickling the lines that creased his palms, filling each pore on his skin with an electrifying sensation. He tested the waters by tepidly running his tongue along his lower lip, but Felix didn't relent and instead gingerly pushed away.

Again.

"We still need to talk about what happened before whatever this is turns into...something else," Felix looked up at Sylvain with wide eyes begging for patience.

" _Whatever_ this is, huh?" And Sylvain couldn't help but let a small drop of venom escape his lips.

Felix all furrowed brows and downturned lips caught it immediately, "Don't—"

"I know, I won't. I'm sorry," he picked up Felix's hand and softly kissed the back of it, "I promise."

Felix carefully took his hand back and nodded towards the door of the bar, "Come on, let's go inside. I need to warm up."

And Sylvain followed him through the door and wondered if the door was heavier than the first time he walked through the threshold. 


	4. Chapter 4

Felix couldn’t bring himself to warm up, his fingers tingling with a strange sort of buzzing that settled its current at the base of his palms. He let his eyes wander to nothing in particular; his guitar propped against the wall, the empty coffee cups and half-filled beer bottles adorning the plastic table, the employee’s rights posters plastered all over, anything but the pair of eyes as green as ripe pears staring at him from his left.

They were _backstage_ as the manager of the bar liked to call it, but it was honestly just a glorified breakroom. It was fine, really. They had enough room to warm up, save for Mercedes, but she hardly needed the extra few minutes of practice, and it was fairly comfortable. Felix never minded.

But he couldn’t get himself to relax, couldn’t direct the lighting rolling along the planes of palms away from himself. So he let it spark and crack on top of his skin until it burned and forced him to ball his hands into fists, curling his fingers inward not unlike curling them around Sylvain’s palm under a table during a heated argument.

He wished he didn’t know why he was so apprehensive, wished he could just relish in the memory of the warm equilibrium that permeated the small, closing distance between him and Sylvain as the latter leaned forward, wished he could enjoy the after-touch of soft fingers ghosting along his cheek with a kind of tenderness that was only reserved for him, wished he could just remember the plush of plump lips eager to slot perfectly into his with carefree affection.

He knew better, of course. Because that was the thing about memories; the good ones caressed the corners of your mouth, pulled them upwards into fleeting smiles full of nostalgia. But the bad ones slithered into your ears and whispered curses full of poison that pervaded the senses, filled your nerves with bile until it was all you tasted, all you smelled, all you _felt_. Felix tasted it on the tip of Sylvain’s tongue; he smelled it in the aroma of bergamot on tan, freckled skin; and he felt it in the palm his fingers so willingly wrapped themselves around.

In the dull fluorescent lighting of the break room, Felix tried to push the memory of two teenage boys sharing honest confessions in the wake of irreversible tragedy out of his mind; tried to shove the heartbreaking aftermath of immediate ambivalence and almost denial through the pores of his skin. But before he could make any sort of progress or drown in the silence, he was brought back to the present by the pull of Annette’s voice.

”Hello? Earth to Felix?”

“What is it?” He winced at the unintended edge in his voice. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” The roll of her eyes had Felix suppressing a smile. “I was wondering if it was okay to run the more mellow set tonight. My throat has been feeling kind of sore and itchy.”

Felix made a show of scowling before answering. “I suppose that’s fine. If you want, the three of us could go on without you if your throat is bothering you.”

“I’ll be fine tonight, promise! Also, it sounds like you’re saying the band would be better off without me! That’s a really evil thing to imply, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it, you don’t have to perform with us, Annie.” Mercedes’s cheery voice draped over Felix’s shoulders and helped him breathe a little easier. “But of course, we won’t stop you.”

“I’m okay, really guys!” Annette’s cheeks puffed up slightly, and Felix felt the buzzing in his palms settle.

“Well in any case, let’s get you some tea and honey to soothe your throat.” Mercedes tugged on Annette’s wrist and pulled her through the door. “We’ll meet you boys five minutes before we’re scheduled to play.”

“We’ll see you soon, then.” Ashe gave the pair a wave and watched them disappear down the hall before turning to Felix.

It was quiet for a few moments, and Felix hoped Ashe would allow him to settle into the silence. But much to his feigned dismay, his roommate was a good friend.

“Is everything alright, Felix?”

Felix so badly wanted to leave in a hurried huff, but he knew he’d come a long way from the angry teenager from so many moons ago. “What makes you think otherwise?”

“Well, you’re not warming up for starters. Unusual is an understatement, and…” Ashe’s pause forced Felix to finally meet his gaze, all fondness and concern coalescing in those big green eyes that Felix wanted to call stupid. He chewed on the inside of his lip to keep from grimacing.

“And what?”

Ashe gave him a warm smile, pushing the bundles of freckles that dotted the apples of his cheeks up into his equally comforting stare. Felix couldn’t help but relax his expression. “You just seem so far away, like you’re concentrating on something you found in a dream.”

“Hmph, the English major in you is showing.”

Ashe’s smile grew, but an impish glimmer twinkled in his eyes. “Could it be you’re thinking about kissing Sylvain again?”

Felix flushed as red as strawberries. “How...did you see us? Ugh, it doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. It looked really nice, actually. The other night definitely wasn’t nothing. I thought I was going to suffocate in the tension. I won’t push you for the details, but you know I’m here if you need to talk.”

“About Sylvain or Dimitri?”

“I...Well, both if you want.” Ashe gripped the neck of his bass a little tighter, and Felix felt guilt skate over his skin. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Dimitri?”

“You already asked me this. I didn’t think he was the same person.”

“I guess.” Felix has tried to be better about eye contact, so he gritted his teeth in an effort to keep Ashe’s gaze despite the way it wavered in unfair uncertainty. “I just want to know if there’s anything about Dimitri I should be careful about, or if I should even be involved with hi—” 

“Dimitri is a good man,” Felix surprised himself with how quickly he cut off Ashe off, but maybe it wasn’t as surprising as he thought because he continued, “Whatever happened between him and me was a long time ago and won’t affect you now.”

Ashe’s smile became soft and his eyes even softer. “Thanks, Felix. You know if you want to talk about Sylvain…”

“I don’t,” he winced at the gruff tone of his voice and sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, it’s just...I haven’t even spoken to him about it, or really thought about it all that clearly myself.”

Ashe gently placed his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “If it helps, I haven’t known Sylvain for very long, but the way he looks at you is really different from the way he looks at everyone else.”

Felix quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“He looks at you with so much affection, like if he doesn’t hold you down with his stare long enough you’ll fly away.”

“Your English major is showing again. You should talk to Sylvain about that, by the way. He’s also a writer.”

“Yeah, Dimitri told me.” Ashe stood up and stretched his arms, but not before allowing his smile to wilt. “But I don’t think Sylvain likes me very much.”

Felix bristled at that. “Why? Did he say something to you? Because if he did I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Oh, no it’s fine! No need for all that. It’s just a hunch really. I’m probably overthinking things. Anyway,” Ashe grabbed his bass and padded towards the door, “we have a set to play.”

“Yeah, alright.” Felix grabbed his own guitar and followed his roommate out the door, hunching his shoulders a bit as a strange, uneasy weight settled right into the crevices.

+++

Felix felt incredulous at his own nerves. He’d been performing with his friends for almost an entire year and not once did he ever make himself familiar with the numbing sensation of nerves. In fact, he was never more confident than he was with a guitar in his hand. _One of those Fraldarius things_ Glenn always used to say.

But as they finally settled on the stage and Annette announced their arrival, Felix suddenly felt the neck of his guitar slightly slip in his sweaty grip. He never noticed how awfully bright the shitty stage lights were before they played. He squinted through the overwhelming curtain of light to skim the crowd. He noticed Lysithea immediately, always huddled close to the front, her height could only take her so far. Dorothea was next to her, giggling into Ingrid’s ear while the latter flushed vermillion. Dimitri was pulled into a one-sided conversation with Caspar while Linhardt yawned on his shoulder. Dedue, as vigilant as always, was trying his best to help pluck Dimitri away from whatever new gym regimen Caspar was talking about, probably. Sylvain was chatting idly with Claude and Hilda until he caught Felix’s gaze.

Felix mentally cursed himself as his breath hitched at the honeyed glow of Sylvain’s eyes, swirling thick and hazy with adoration under the now dimmed hue of the bar. Felix wanted to be sickened by the sweetness, but allowed himself to be covered by the stickiness of his stare. He let out a breathy exhale, and Sylvain beamed at him with reassurance punctuated with a thrown up peace sign. Felix cursed himself again for blushing.

Goddess that man was so stupid.

Goddess Felix was so _fucked_.

He heard Mercedes’s gentle _ahem_ before shaking his head and bracing himself for the night ahead. Felix took one more deep breath before gently plucking at the strings with the first slow notes of the song, seamlessly leading the rest of the band into the beginning.

_Runner ___

____

____

_I know you're living with a wild hunger_

_Let me make the most of us_

_You know you'll never be a runner_

_And leave me in a cloud of dust_

It was one of their calmer songs, easy to play and even easier to get lost in while playing. Despite Annette’s sore throat, her voice was nothing short of velure. It centered Felix as he strummed through the song, never once breaking eye contact with Sylvain. He was getting better at that.

_Living in the same old sin_

_I feel it blowing in the wind_ /

_Like manna in the desert, oh_

_Gonna take a miracle_

Felix watched Sylvain begin to sway to the song, his smile growing softer and softer and _softer_ until it was as soft as his dumb, perfectly dishevled half curls and the tender sheen glazing over the cedar of his eyes like tapped tree sap. So impossibly soft, not unlike the look he gave Felix all those years ago, huddled together on the cold tiled floor of a bathroom while Felix stained his shirt with tears.

If Felix ripped into the chorus a little too roughly, his bandmates were good enough not to flinch.

_Every little bead of sweat_

_Feel it running down my neck_

_When you look at me like that_

_Feeling like we can't go back_

_If I become a pillar of salt_

_I'll know that it was all my fault_

_Every little bead of sweat_

_Every little bead of sweat_

Felix flung those memories towards the back of his head and concentrated on the friction of his fingertips, Annette’s melodic voice, the bass of Ashe’s notes, and every stutter of Mercedes’s kick drum. The remainder of their set consisted of equally relaxed songs and eager stares full of pent-up yearning.

They found each other at the bar afterwards, because of course they did. The rest of their friends were scattered about, indulging in their own revelry while Felix and Sylvain idled over whiskey again.

Sylvain broke the silence first. “Have I had the chance to tell you how ethereal you look when you play on stage?”

Felix took a sip of his drink before scoffing, “Do you always try to lead with flattery?”

“Do you always try to pretend it doesn’t work?” Felix blushed at his answer and quickly finished the rest of his drink. He tried not to pay attention to the fond cadence of Sylvain’s laugh. He was surprised he could even hear it over the chatter of the bar.

“Whatever, you’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, and you’re still as peachy as ever.” Felix lightly elbowed him in the ribs and failed to conceal his smile as Sylvain pretended he was mortally wounded. After Sylvain righted himself on the barstool, he began to gently trace the peaks of Felix’s knuckles with his fingertips. “You know, I meant it when I said you looked good the other day, and I’m not trying for flattery. I can see it in your expressions, the way you carry yourself, the way you play. It’s like...you found a piece of yourself you didn’t know you were missing.”

Felix’s eyes flitted towards the opposite corner of the bar and landed on an animated Ashe chattering excitedly with Mercedes and Dedue. Annette and Lysithea were giggling nearby, chiming in here and there. When he turned back to Sylvain, Felix swore he noticed a pointed glare, but it was gone before he could even register it properly, replaced by a helping of fool’s gold sugar.

“If you say so.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you find it.” Felix winced at the downturn of Sylvain’s lips. He hated that frown almost as much as the fake smiles.

“I didn’t exactly make it easy for you, or for Ingrid and Dimitri,” Felix sighed before continuing, making sure to soften his expression and unfurrow his brows. “You’re here now, though, and that has to count for something.”

Sylvain moved his stool a little closer. “I guess it does.”

The pair ordered another round and sat in comfortable silence for a bit. Sylvain never removed his touch from Felix’s hand, the sensation colliding with the lightning still rolling on the planes of Felix’s skin. Sylvain broke the silence once more and made small talk about cats and swords, which Felix found more than pleasant. After another round, Felix found the courage to breach a particular subject.

“So, you’re getting disowned?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an expert conversationalist?” Sylvain laughed something loud and empty and dark. “I guess I just got tired of trying to live up to his expectations, and I gotta say, disappointing my dad? Nothing compares to that adrenaline rush,” he looked Felix up and down, a hunger welling in his eyes that Felix wanted to drown in. “Well, I guess one thing does.”

“I know I said this already, but I’m proud of you for finally doing what you want. Fuck being a lawyer.”

That time around, Sylvain’s laugh was rich with mirth, all deepened dimples as he squeezed Felix’s hand with gratitude. “Fuck being a lawyer!”

They go for another round, another conversation about cats and swords, and then another round coupled with proclamations of _fuck being a lawyer_ and _our dads just never understood us_ , and then a few more rounds filled with philosophical discussions about whether or not having sleeveless turtlenecks in the double digits is too many.

Before he knew it, Felix was relaxed and flushed and loose and fucking snorting with laughter in the crook of Sylvain’s neck, their hands enlaced in between their half-finished drinks.

He lifted his head to meet Sylvain’s half-lidded gaze, and he didn’t care enough to stop the latter from leaning in and slotting their lips together. It was a much more eager kiss this time, one that Felix was sure he shouldn’t have melted into quite so easily, but the smoky haze of whiskey lingering on the plump of Sylvain’s lips was too intoxicating to ignore, and Felix figured it was alright to indulge just a little bit more, he was already drunk anyway.

Sylvain gently parted his lips with his tongue and this time Felix let him in, relishing in how easy it was to lose himself in this drunk, sloppy sort of song; it was easier than losing himself in the calmness of the set he played earlier. His breathing deepened as Sylvain cupped the side of his jaw, unlacing his other hand to grip onto Felix’s thigh. Felix’s arms latched themselves onto Sylvain’s shoulders, and the thought that should have occurred much earlier finally settled in his brain— _you probably shouldn’t do this right now_.

Felix pulled away to find Sylvain utterly dazed, as if the goddess herself granted him immortality.

“Hey,” Sylvain whispered, “you should come home with me.”

And as suddenly as Felix found himself melting into Sylvain, he suddenly found himself drowning in the bad kind of nostalgia. He took stock of the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the smell of bergamot in the crook of Sylvain’s neck, and the firm grip on his thigh.

_Bile. Bile. Bile._

Felix finally pulled away completely, relinquishing himself of every one of Sylvain’s touches to nurse the remainder of his drink. He definitely caught the flash of hurt and confusion that skirted over Sylvain’s muted gold daze.

“Sylvain, don’t give me that look.”

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“We can just talk about things now, you know.”

“Not while we’re drunk,” and it was certainly true. Felix wondered if he would even be able to hop off the barstool without stumbling, and while Sylvain always had an easier time holding down his liquor, there was a slurred edge to his words that suggested they wouldn’t be able to do much talking in the first place.

Felix was relieved at the warm, understanding smile dimpling Sylvain’s cheeks. “Can we still hang out, though? We can go to cat cafes or wander into really sketchy sword shops, and we don’t have to touch each other at all. I can even show you stores that offer more than sleeveless turtlenecks.” Felix scowled before lightly punching Sylvain in the arm.

Felix could manage that much, at least.

“Of course, idiot.”

+++

A few days turns into several weeks faster than Felix could even realize.

And they still haven’t talked about anything.

Regardless, Felix found it easy to fall back into step with Sylvain. They spent more time with each other, relearning the rusted parts of their dynamic and exploring the new ones that developed without the other. Felix learned their time spent apart has been both kind and cruel to Sylvain, a bittersweet bundle of experiences that morphed Sylvain into a more honest version of himself. Felix’s chest swelled with relief when Sylvain regaled him with the tale of walking out of his Political Science final during his sophomore year and wandering straight into the registrar's office to change his major, and his chest fumed with rage when Sylvain mentioned the anger of his father, the poisonous words he spat at his youngest child. _Ungrateful little shit_ and _just like Miklan_ echoed in Felix’s head the loudest.

“Your father is a fucking asshole,” he said once out of the blue while they strolled together in the depths of the city when they looked for, as Sylvain eloquently put it, the best goddess damned cheesesteaks on the whole goddess damned planet.

Sylvain gave him a surprised glance before Felix watched those soft, soft eyes harden in the afternoon glow coupled with an equally stiff smile. He threw his arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Yeah, he is.”

“You’re not like him,” Felix added. “Not like him and not like Miklan.”

Sylvain let out a dark chuckle, “If you really think so.” He began to pull away from Felix, but not before Felix snatched his wrist and willed him to stay, tucking himself closer to Sylvain’s side.

“I know so.”

+++

Felix’s new friends took a liking to his old ones; Dorothea and Ingrid indulged Sylvain with Sunday brunches along with Annette and Lysithea, and double dates consisting of Ashe and Dimitri joining Dedue and Mercedes at their restaurant had become regular. Sylvain also began to spend time with Claude and Hilda, which made Felix roll his eyes and scoff each time they did because of course they became fast friends. Claude and Sylvain were two devilishly handsome and dangerously intelligent peas in a pod, and Hilda was an expert at hiding her own wits with an aloof, carefree attitude.

“Coming from a threesome with Claude and Hilda?” Felix asked as Sylvain wandered into the alcove hidden deep within the university library they made a habit of sharing. Finding out they went to the same college was the most baffling piece of news Felix learned over the weeks. How the two of them never even crossed paths, let alone the paths of Ingrid and Dimitri, was nothing short of divine intervention.

Sylvain’s smile was easy when he plopped next to Felix and took out a stack of papers that needed grading. Life as a teacher’s assistant suited him, Felix thought, noticing a fondness sparkling in his aurous gaze as his eyes flitted through the sentences.

“Why, did you want to join?” Sylvain’s question was followed with an airy laugh when Felix chucked his textbook at him.

“You’re such a dumbass.” Felix crawled over to where his book landed and reached out to grab it, but not before Sylvain snatched it up and held it high above his head.

“You sound jealous,” Sylvain’s eyes narrowed into something hungry and a little dangerous, and Felix had to suppress a shudder.

“As if,” Felix swung his arm to grab his book and missed. “Give it back.”

Sylvain held out the textbook, but as Felix grabbed it, his hold didn’t waver. “To answer your question, I didn’t sleep with Claude and Hilda. Actually, I haven’t slept with anyone for a while. You see, there’s this really hot guitarist I’m into. He even let me kiss him a couple times.”

Felix stared into Sylvain’s gilded gaze, found himself counting the freckles along the bridge of his noise for the hundredth time, sinking further and further until he was neck deep in liquid gold. He shook his head and yanked his book out of Sylvain’s hands, curling into the opposite corner of the alcove and lifting his open textbook to hide his blush.

“Shut up.”

+++

They hadn’t kissed since the night at the bar. They came close more often than not, but Felix always reeled at the memory of bile drowning out all five of his senses. Sylvain reached for his hand every time, though, and Felix would sometimes take it, sometimes refuse. He didn’t have a rhyme or reason for the times he did or didn’t accept Sylvain’s affection, he supposed it depended on the day, like the day he found himself curled in Sylvain’s arms on his couch.

“I just...miss him,” Felix half-whispered in Sylvain’s chest.

“Glenn was a good man,” Sylvain breathed into the crown of Felix’s head.

“I’ll never be like him. I wish my dad would stop pretending.” Sylvain held Felix a little tighter, and Felix felt warmer and safer than he had in a long time. The embrace unearthed an old memory, of the last time Sylvain held him in his arms. He wanted to pull away, suddenly, but was too tired to move.

“No, you’ll never be like him, but that’s okay. He was a good man, but so are you. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”

If Dimitri saw them tangled and asleep on the couch when he came home that evening, he was polite enough to never mention it.

+++

Felix breathed a little easier after reaching an understanding with Ingrid the night at Dedue’s restaurant, and found himself breathing even easier around Dimitri every time Ashe brought him around. It was awkward at first, but with Ashe acting as a kind buffer, Felix didn’t find it so hard to get along with his old friend. They even shared stories of their childhood together with Ashe, always leaving out the grisly details.

“One time Felix cried for almost twenty hours straight.”

“I was four, and you broke my favorite toy with your freakish strength, asshole.”

“Dimitri, how could you?” Ashe playfully added.

“It was an accident! I would never break one of your things on purpose.” Dimitri threw Felix a pleading glance.”

“And yet, that was your favorite hobby.”

Felix and Dimitri had yet to talk about what happened between them, and Felix almost laughed at the thought of piling all of his childhood troubles in a mental crate labeled _you should probably tend to these soon_.

Ashe simply smiled at their banter.

+++

Sylvain never missed a single one of Felix’s performances, even when they landed on a weekday. He even accompanied Felix when Dorothea and her band performed.

“How Caspar can play bass of all things with so much enthusiasm and vigor, I’ll never know,” Linhardt mentioned while he watched his partner swing his head up and down as if he was riddled with fleas. “They’re even playing a relaxed song.”

“He’s your boyfriend,” Felix muttered.

“Yes,” Linhardt said through a small smile coupled with a half-lidded stare, “he is.”

“Wonder what he’s like in the sheets if he’s like _that_ on stage,” Sylvain said before Felix purposefully stepped on his toes. Linhardt ignored them.

_Why don't you take off your red shoes_

_So we can end our night well spent?_

_And why don't you say what's on your mind?_

_I won't run away_

“Wow, Thea’s voice is magic,” Sylvain said so quietly Felix almost didn’t hear him. Felix watched Caspar’s ridiculous headbanging, and found himself tapping along to the beat of Hilda’s drum and swaying to Claude’s easy strumming.

_Staring at a distance, this warmth is hard to find_

_Sitting in the silence, I gave my best; I tried_

_Simply a distraction I didn't hope to find_

_Sitting by my side, I hope you're here to stay_

“Yeah, but so is Annette’s.”

Sylvain turned to him and nudged him in the shoulder. “You sound like Lysithea now. Don’t worry, Cutting Gale is still my favorite band.”

“We better be.” Felix looked up and was met with a small, dimpled grin that urged goosebumps to skitter along his back. Sylvain was looking at him as if he were the one on stage, those eyes full of plush umber, glimmering adoration under the shitty lighting of the bar. Felix responded by enlacing their fingers together and tugging Sylvain close. A thought occurred to him once he realized the taste of bile was beginning to water down: he really, really wanted to try.

_I won't turn away, won't turn away, won't turn away_

_When morning comes our way, I'll be here to stay_

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me and chat about fe3h. 
> 
> twitter: jenstarlol


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